


hit the party with a gas can

by brandywine421



Category: Daredevil (TV), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24727354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandywine421/pseuds/brandywine421
Summary: Karen, Foggy and Matt are all settling into their new reality post S3 asNelson, Murdock and Page.It's just another Friday night in Hell's Kitchen where Karen is a strong independent woman, Foggy is a doting, dutiful boyfriend and Matt runs around in his black pajamas like a boss.  Normal Friday.  Sure.
Relationships: Eddie Brock/Karen Page, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson/Marci Stahl, Matt Murdock/Nebula
Comments: 16
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was fun. I hope some of you enjoy!

* * *

_Living life with no need for the brakes_  
_Something happens when I lean on my mistakes_  
_If the words are true_  
_And the words reveal the same_  
_I come alive when I don't even think_

* * *

Nelson, Murdock and Page.

Not where he thought he'd ever find himself again - with his vigilante best friend alive and unwell - _as allowed_ \- his other best friend alive and better than ever - _as required_ \- and his girlfriend most likely about to dump him - _as deserved_ \- fuck.

"What's with the emo mope you've got going on tonight?" Marci asked, tilting her cheek toward him for a kiss to make him work for it and lean around her to get to her lips.

"Not an emo mope, but I do need to talk."

"God, haven't we had enough excitement for a while?" she groaned but gave him her full attention and a cup of coffee sweetened just how he liked it.

It was so domestic that he wanted to burst - this was the life he wanted with a woman that loved him as much as he loved her and all his friends alive and safe and - God, this was going to hurt.

"What is it, Foggy?" she asked, open with concern as she took his hand.

"I'm - shit, I've been lying to you. For a while - like, a couple of years but - "

"Years?" she whispered.

"Not by choice, not really, but - "

"You're a shit liar so - "

"Matt's Daredevil," he blurted out.

She released his hand like he'd shocked her. "Wait - "

"It was one of the reasons we shut down the firm the first time but we're giving it another shot with a little more - transparency and I told him I absolutely had to tell you the truth. I trust you with my biggest - "

"It's not your secret, Matt told me three drinks into his 'not dead' dinner party a few weeks ago," Marci cut him off, her shock transformed into a blankness that he wished he didn't know well.

Shit.

"I figured he told you that he told me, he cried into my sweater, he's such a messy drunk when than Jones woman is around," Marci said. 

" _Shit_. So - you're not upset I'm going back into private practice with Matt and Karen and getting paid in pastries?"

"You are aware of what I do for a living, right?" Marci blinked at him.

"Of course, what are you talking about?"

She blinked at him again and he wondered when she'd had time to apply those new eyelashes before wondering when he knew so much about her daily maintenance routine. Then he remembered he'd been living with her for - God, had it been over two years now?

"Being engaged to the DA would have increased my credibility, sure but getting engaged to a money-hungry lawyer fleeing the bowels of Hogarth's fallen empire would never have worked out for either of us." She flashed the ring he'd given her without asking the question and she'd accepted without answering it - thus avoiding any hurt feelings or arguments about credit and implied Google history violations.

"You work for a human rights non-profit, Marce, I'm not sure - "

"I love you, Foggy, but sometimes you're really stupid."

"I don't give a damn about your reputation and I didn't think - "

"I am betrayed by your lies," she stated flatly and he shut up to wait her out. "If Matt's Daredevil, then I have a demand for my silence."

He studied her face for any levity but he'd lost enough cases to her, mock and live-action. to know she was serious as fuck. "What do you want from him?"

"Not from _him_ , from you. My soft, sweet pacifist cinnamon roll fiance, Foggy Nelson is the accessory to a notoriously brutal vigilante. I am _betrayed_ ," she repeated, staring him down with those cold cold eyes.

"Anything."

She slid her phone across the counter with her fingerprint unlocking the screen when she pulled her hand back.

"Tickets to - no, you can't mean - " he gasped, like an actual gasp.

"I want to go in the pit - you never let me go in the pit and now I find out your best fucking friend gets the shit beat out of him on a nightly basis - I want to go in the fucking pit."

He shook off the images of broken bird bones and sharp studded bracelets jabbing her perfect skin and his eardrums - oh God the thrash metal horror - 

"Marci - "

"I can't marry a man that doesn't respect my personal need to crowdsurf and punch strangers in the balls," Marci said. "I let you listen to Carly Rae Jepsen in my car - "

"She's a legend - "

"I will tell the world that Matt's Daredevil if you don't concede to at least three shows. Betrayed, Foggy."

Fuck his life. "I love you, I'm doing this for you, not for Matt or out of guilt but because I want you to be happy."

She beamed at him, hurrying over to give him an enthusiastic hug. "There's an underground show uptown tonight, I'll go confirm my vouchers - I love you."

* * *

Nelson, Murdock and Page.

It wasn't where she thought she'd be a year ago, setting up shop with her two platonic best friends for a second shot at a functional law firm.

She'd never wanted to be a lawyer and writing for the bulletin had been the closest to achieving any dream she'd had before moving to New York; but here she was signing paperwork to be third equal partner with a couple of fuck-ups that could barely follow the laws they argued in court.

Fuck, she loved them so much - horns and haircuts be damned - she'd follow them into another bankruptcy without looking back.

Ellison was still - thank God - a friend and wanted to keep her on as a contributor when she had a scoop that he needed to print but she was oddly okay with her decision to spend her days helping clients and solving mysteries with her closest friends.

It was hard to make real, legitimate friends when you couldn't tell them the life-fucking events that were secret - not even because of legal or ethical reasons but, life-fucking reasons.

She wasn't her daddy's baby girl who curtsied on demand in pigtails with a wide gap-toothed smile - that girl didn't grow up to be the woman she was now - that girl died when Kevin did.

She wasn't the scared, broken girl that didn't wash her hair for days and spent more time looking over her shoulder for gunmen than living her life - that girl died when James Wesley did.

She definitely wasn't the confident, gun-carrying HBIC that scared off street punks with her swagger and spent more time hating Matt's life decisions than fixing her own shit - that woman died when Father Lantom bled out.

She wasn't the same washed-out waitress new to the city, and she wasn't going to be the jaded city burnout that treated all strangers as suspects.

She was an employed, freshly shampooed single woman that was going to have drinks at a sports bar in the hopes of meeting a guy that clicked enough buttons to flirt without hitting the asshole or douchebag triggers.

Maybe not a sports bar, then, but it was a place to start.

* * *

_Nelson, Murdock and Page._

It echoed around his head like a pinball, so much angst and regret and trepidation wrapped up in a bright shiny new ball.

_"Meow."_

Not even his new cat could stop the pulsing anxiety in his brain, her soft fur winding around his ankles before tiny paws scratched at his shins.

Spot was a misguided gift from a child client he'd gotten cleared from cat-napping charges as his first official case with the reformed firm, but she had grown on him in the weeks she'd been taking over his personal space.

She was a kitten so it made sense to _him_ that she was young enough to be trained properly but everyone he'd floated the theory to had laughed in his face, or behind their hands. Nonsense.

"Meow."

Three weeks in and they had a small but loyal client list and were slowly but surely getting listed on referral websites and community center bulletin boards and Foggy and Karen's heartbeats were steady and sure every day he walked through the butcher shop to their makeshift office.

They would do better this time, **be** better because they were stronger together. Spot rumbled against his chest when he picked her up. Her tail flicked against his cheek but she was forgiven for most things not involving claws or shower-play.

"I have a feeling tonight's going to be a quiet one," he told her. She mewed at him to not jinx it but he stroked behind her ears. "I'll try to remember to be home in time to do some laundry for you to roll around in, okay?"

She accepted him at his word and he left her to do cat-business to head to the roof and cover his eyes.

Nelson, Murdock and Page might be closed for the weekend, but Daredevil kept his friends and his day job in the periphery of his focus as he expanded his senses to search for trouble in progress.

It was Friday night, his friends were out having fun and it was time for him to get his stress relief started. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyric tag belongs to Cold War Kids.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

_So paint your face up something elegant_   
_And this town maybe a darker shade of red_

_Cause a long night means a fist fight_   
_Against your pillow and my pearly whites_

* * *

She wouldn't commit to being out of practice, but it took a good twenty minutes for the tattooed guy to take the openly vacant barstool beside her. She'd had that trap set as soon as she recognized him and it took twenty minutes for him to step into it - but she wasn't out of practice, fuck off.

"I was a reporter for a while, got fired," she said, trying the honesty route to see if he'd reciprocate. She might be tunnel-visioned on Hell's Kitchen, but she skimmed the news enough to know who he used to be.

He grinned with a flash of teeth and the eye contact knocked her interest up a notch. "Yeah, me, too. The market is thin for freelancers out West."

"Out West? Do people still say that? I'm an investigator for a legal firm in Hell's Kitchen," Karen said.

"Ooh, and what kind of things do they have you investigate for them?" Another flash of teeth with a sparkle of mischief in those eyes.

She must be really lonely if this guy was winning her over by 'smiling with his eyes'. "They appreciate my talent for sticking my nose where it doesn't belong and it's handy having a couple of lawyers watching my back."

"I agree, as long as you're not romantically involved with them." He must have read her face and laughed easily. "My ex was a corporate lawyer until I thoroughly ruined her career."

"Ouch," she winced.

"She recovered a lot better than I did, I'm still trying to claw my way out of my shame spiral."

"You upset she couldn't forgive you or that she's doing fine without you?" she asked impulsively and he only raised one eyebrow. Impressive.

"Second one, she forgave me in a pretty epic way but - shit, she's got this guy and fuck if I can find anything wrong with him. He's good for her, better than I was and it - burns me up."

She took a swallow of beer. "Good for her - I mean I'm sure it sucks for you, but good for her."

He laughed and she had a sudden realization that she was going to bring this man home with her.

* * *

  
"Oh my God, Foggy, I need your boots," Marci demanded, breathless and messy with eyeliner smeared around her eyes like a couture raccoon.

He thought he'd misheard her until he blinked through the smoke and realized she had a skinny blonde girl linked on her elbow.

"Boots - now, I know you didn't tie them because you hate them - here - " Marci reached into her shoulder-bag, conveniently latched around his shoulders for protection and pulled out his shamefully comfortable Birkenstock's.

"But - " Foggy and the teenager with hacked hair said in unison over the shredding guitar and slamming drums. 

"Ballet slippers, like a mosh _noob_ ," Marci said and the girl stepped out of her slippers into Foggy's oversized boots so he could fulfill his brother's expectations by pushing his socked feet into sandals.

"Double loop those laces around your ankles - great, now let's go find mohawk kid and scream in his face," Marci said, tucking the ballet slippers into her bag, kissing him sloppily around the mouth and abandoning him with the friendly group of parental chaperones he'd found by the bathroom line.

"Hopefully that's your wife and not your stepdaughter or overly affectionate niece," one of the parents said when he rejoined the safety of the perimeter of the mosh pit.

"Fiancee - I don't know the kid," Foggy called back.

"Hey, if she's willing to babysit kids in the pit can you send her after mine - haven't spotted his mohawk in over ten minutes," another parent chimed in.

Shit.

* * *

  
It turned out to be an actual slow night for Hell's Kitchen, slow enough that he checked on Spot three times before expanding his perimeter to what sounded like a drone-battle near Central Park. It was a 'little' out of bounds but he was feeling a little out of bounds with the lack of punching.

He could go home and spend a few hours boxing shadows in his apartment with his new cat or he could follow the screams and murmurs of the crowds gathering to watch an air-battle he could only listen to.

He found a nice listening spot on a fire escape a few moments before a drone - a large and expensive one - crashed into what sounded like a Mercedes.

Bystanders seemed to think it was a spaceship crashing into a Toyota but he would never be a 'car guy'.

_"This is nowhere near the airport - "_

_"I'm not a navigator, I'm a pilot, the ship malfunctioned because of your incompetence - "_

Again, he had to tell himself that his hearing wasn't perfect because there was no way a raccoon and robot lady were climbing out of a crashed spacecraft in the middle of Manhattan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyric tag belongs to TBS.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

  
_And there's holes on the walls_   
_Written in the sand_   
_Deception on my lips and there's blood on your hands_   
_And I'm tired of keepin' lies_   
_You can see it in my eyes_

* * *

"You got a thing for tattoos?"

She traced her fingertips over his defined abs and the black ink bleeding dark hair. "Not necessarily. Scars, tattoos - there's always a story behind them. Mine are boring, nights of hard drugs and one-night stands with ex-cons with ink kits. But you have enough of 'em to make me wonder what drives you to pay people to draw permanently on your skin. Pain management, inside or out?"

He didn't laugh, but he was smiling as he caught her hand and brought it to his lips. One of these days she was going to go out with a man that knew how to get a close shave. 

"You could've just said yes," he said. "Now I have to admit that one of my old buddies was a tattoo artist that used me for ads and demonstrations."

"Liar," she laughed and he kept smiling, studying her like she was something new and not another chick he picked up at a bar.

"I used to have a thing about needles, couldn't stand the sight of 'em," Eddie said, sliding his thigh between her knees to urge her back to bed. "Exposure therapy."

"Why not go for acupuncture? Not punk enough for you?"

That did bring a laugh out of him but his eyes went distant for a moment, but not quite long enough to make her offer him a penny before her phone buzzed loudly from the dresser. A text, so not Matt but equal odds for Foggy or Marci at this hour.

"Go on, I need a bathroom break anyway," he said, kissing her softly and pretending like he didn't appreciate her appreciation of his bare ass.

She glanced at the message and forgot all about her current win. _"Turn on the news omg he's fighting an alien - this traffic can suck my dick."_

She wanted to flop against the bed and throw a whole body tantrum before she broke open the rum but - fuck - she was a grown ass woman. "I'm so sorry, but I have to check the news for a quick second," she called and waited for him to flush and - yay - switch on the sink to wash his hands before actually swiping the remote.

_"Breaking news - Daredevil is currently at the site of a massive traffic accident from what reports are calling - a spaceship crash involving - yes, we're told the spaceship careened off course in order to hit a raccoon that was using a legal crosswalk - animal rights groups are calling for - "_

"Wow, New York is wild - is that an alien?" Eddie asked, making her jump when he joined her by the TV, squinting.

"Yeah, but it's a little above Daredevil's pay grade," she said, flushing at speaking out of turn. "Shit, he's a friend - a contact, of sorts."

Eddie scratched his chin and walked back to the bed and found his underwear and offered her his button-down as if they weren't in her apartment. "I have a little, experience with aliens. If he needs, like - "

Daredevil ducked a spin kick and sword swing before kneeing the bald blue alien in the face and tumbling with her off an overpass with a hurl of his retractable baton to suspend them safely before they crashed into the pavement.

"Oh. I guess he's got it," Eddie huffed when she glanced at him.

"Do I need to know about that experience?" She didn't have a Reddit problem, she absolutely did not have that problem at all. "Do I need to get tested?"

"No, it's not like that. Just think of him as a contact, of sorts."

She considered it. "Did we just have a threesome - because I didn't sign on for that."

"It's not like that either, I promise," he said.

She had more questions but filed them away for later now that the cameras were following the raccoon who appeared to have a lot of weapons for a helpless woodland animal.

_"Reports are coming in that some of the bystanders have called the raccoon a 'trash panda' and Daredevil and the alien have joined forces to defend his honor - "_

"Is 'trash panda' considered a slur?" Karen asked.

"Do you think that raccoon has a permit to carry a gun that big?" Eddie asked. There was a familiar bang-bang-bang on the door signaled the arrival of an uninvited guest at - shit, 2 am, really Frank?

Eddie seemed to bristle at her annoyed expression and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him.

"Hey, if you go all alpha male about a friend showing up at my place then you can lose my number and get out," she said, watching the inky darkness leech back from where it was covering his fingers. Was she really going to have to deal with an alien *and* a marine at 2 in the morning?

Eddie held up both hands. "Fair."

She took the closest gun from the drawer beside her and went to the peephole, spotting the empty hallway that meant Frank was in the blind spot between the cameras. "Asshole."

Frank stepped into view and she unchained the door and the deadbolts to let him inside. He froze just inside and pointedly looked past her, but not at Eddie at something off to the right.

"Um. I - hey."

Eddie cleared his throat in a failed attempt to hide his laugh. "Button your shirt, he's scandalized by your - "

"Shut it," she cut him off but pulled the borrowed shirt closed. "Is everything okay, Frank?"

"I don't think so, but - look, your buddy's brawling with a blue alien on TV and I've got a green alien and a sentient tree locked in a storage container down at the docks," Frank said, making eye contact with her but still making time to flip Eddie off.

Goddamn it. "And you need me because - "

"I don't have his number and I'm still on too many government watchlists to call it in like a good citizen," Frank replied. "Didn't know you had company. Does Red know you have company? Are you being held against your will?"

"That's none of your business, give me your phone," she said, patting down his armored vest and belts of ammo until she found his phone. "I'll put it under 'Red' and when he asks how you got it - "

"I'll say no comment and he'll know it was you anyway," Frank grumbled. "Thank you." He hesitated.

"No, I don't need help, no I won't call Daredevil for you and no, I won't bring a ruler for the dick measuring contest - "

He winced and Eddie laughed behind her. "I got it, no harm no foul, Karen. I'm leaving - " Frank started, his eyes going wide suddenly. She snapped around to see what Eddie had done to earn that reaction but he was standing innocently in his boxers, but a tendril of the inky black was late slipping into skin at his throat.

"You done?" she sighed glancing between them.

"Yes ma'am," both of them said, which was not a turn on at this particular moment.

"Get out," she said, hitting the heels of Frank's boots and earning a reassuring huff of annoyance from the territorial asshole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyric tag belongs to Niykee Heaton.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

_  
I'm coming out of my cage_   
_And I've been doing just fine_   
_Gotta gotta be down_   
_Because I want it all  
  
_

* * *

"I can't believe this - can you - I just cannot even - " Foggy yelled at the taillights taunting him in the crawling line of cars and dropping his phone in the cupholder with a grumble. "He's out of his mind."

Marci shared an eye-roll with the jailbait pixie dream girl in black leather and pink ballet shoes currently sprawled across their backseat. "Are you done? Daredevil causes havoc on days that end in 'y', why is this different?" she asked.

"Aliens," Foggy hissed at her.

"You're his lawyer, right? Double D?" Gwen asked, proving his hopes that she wasn't paying attention all wrong.

"No comment," he grumbled.

Marci rubbed his knee and smiled with a slightly split lip that was going to give him sad dreams for days. "My Foggy Bear represents Daredevil, his partner handles Luke Cage and Jessica Jones - not the highest paying clients, but they're good judges of character most of the time."

"Aliens - what is he thinking, you know?" Foggy blurted out, ignoring Marci's over-share and compliments to focus on the real issue. "Can you try his phone again?"

"So you know his real identity, is it, like, your job to protect it because he pays you? How much does he pay you?" Gwen asked.

She had a lot of questions, didn't she? And why had she refused their offer for a ride until Marci introduced him?

"I respect that Daredevil does a lot of stupid, illegal things for the greater good and he's not a criminal unless, well, the situation requires him breaking the law to right a wrong. Same goes for Jessica and Luke," Foggy replied. Well, maybe not so much Luke but there was a reason Matt was handling his file until further notice.

"I think she's asking for a friend, if you know what I mean," Marci stage whispered to him, raising her phone to her ear. Were her knuckles busted? She perked up when her phone connected. "Hey, are you starting fights with aliens?"

 _"Am I on TV? Please tell me how to get off TV,"_ Matt's muted voice drifted from her speaker.

Gwen giggled and Marci mouthed for him to keep his eyes on the road when he reached for the phone.

"Are you in trouble, or like, need backup?" Marci switched the speaker on with no respect for secret identities and the teenagers sniffing around them.

_"Ew, no, it was a misunderstanding, we're all running from the cops now - they've got like, Feds looking for them and I really didn't mean to get caught on camera - am I still on camera?"_

Gwen glanced at her phone and nodded in the rear view mirror at him. "That is a yes."

_"Hang on - the hell is he doing here? I think we've got a ride but Foggy's not going to like it - how was the club?"_

"It was awesome," Marci answered. "But Foggy Bear's freaking out because you're on the news and I really don't want to ruin my zen by putting on his playlist."

 _"Carly Rae Jepsen is a legend,"_ Matt said.

"Thank you!" Foggy yelled. 

"Met a kid, say hello, Child - can you believe she turned up in ballet slippers?" Marci asked.

Foggy felt like she had smacked him in the face - how could he have missed the connection with the slippers - but Matt wasn't too distracted by aliens - ALIENS - to miss her point. Matt hummed thoughtfully before asking, _"Was she sticking to walls or just hanging out?"_

"The pit, Daredevil - it's all about the pit, but I got her some shoes and she held her own," Marci said with a satisfied smile.

"I knew trusting you was a mistake," Gwen hissed at her. "How do you even - "

"Oh come on, I just found out my fiance had a pet vigilante three weeks ago - it was like kismet that I find one of my own in my favorite place."

"I thought Rodrigo's was your favorite place," Foggy said but he was slightly relieved that Gwen wasn't pulling out web-shooters or whatever toys she used to swing around the city.

_"The pit, she just said - I gotta go, leave the Spider alone - don't tell them anything, Kid, or they'll never let you play with aliens without lecturing you about it for days - "_

"Weeks," Foggy corrected. "Call me when you're home safe - "

_"I will consider texting you if I remember, thanks for sending Castle with the extraction."_

"So, he's more than a client, he's your actual friend," Gwen said over his mutual sputtering with Marci at Matt's closing statement.

"You have to give Foggy a dollar and come by his office when you have an afternoon to spare, if you intend on making your band pay off then you need to be prepared for anything."

"You're a musician? What kind of music?"

The kid was quick to glance at Marci before she answered. "I'm a drummer, I can jam to all kinds of things - "

"Not the kind with a pit, I Googled her band, what?" Marci asked when Foggy glared at her.

"We are having an extra-long conversation about boundaries and making friends with children as soon as we get home," he hissed at her. He met the girl's eyes in the rear view mirror. "You got parents?"

"My dad's a cop," she said in a small voice.

"Girl, you need all the legal advice," Marci groaned.

"Does he know?"

Gwen shrank into the backseat and Foggy winced. "God, no, he'd kill me or make me see all the doctors - it's - I can handle it, oh my God, how did you even know?"

Marci glanced at Foggy. "Well, Daredevil's a little obsessed with your ballet slippers. Most of the bad guys, and good guys he deals with have heavy boots or gear that matches the job - "

"He talks about my shoes?" she whispered.

"He's a weirdo, but he worries about your arches and toes - like a lot - but he's not allowed to engage with other vigilantes so - " Foggy started.

"You just sent the Punisher to pick him up with his new alien friends," Gwen interrupted blankly.

"To be fair, we didn't have anything to do with Castle - that had to be Karen's fault," Marci said.

Gwen glanced between them. "You're not going to tell my dad or the cops or turn me over to creepy scientists?"

"We are actively trying to avoid those last two parts, but may encourage you on the first one depending on future meetings," Foggy replied.

"Plausible deniability is a real thing - if he doesn't know, he can't incriminate you but I challenge with - if he doesn't know, he won't be aware of the danger he's in if your identity leaks," Marci said.

The girl seemed to make a decision and reached her hand through the seats. "Give me your business card, I already have Marci's."

"And we're giving her a ride to a show in Chelsea next weekend if her bandmates flake - but she will be wearing her own boots," Marci said, passing her one of his new 'Nelson, Murdock and Page' cards from the console.

"Next weekend? Don't you want to take a break from the violence?" Foggy protested.

"Save it for that extra-long conversation," Marci winked at him, patting his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyric tag belongs to The Killers.

**Author's Note:**

> Title belongs to MCR.


End file.
